


Disarm

by mxjoyride



Series: Smashing [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Blackmail, Bondage, Cloacal Sex, Collars, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Intoxication, Kanar, Kissing, Leashes, Leather Kink, M/M, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxjoyride/pseuds/mxjoyride
Summary: Garak offers to conceal some compromising information about Dukat if Dukat agrees to be his pet for an evening.  It's certainly not something Dukat expects to enjoy.--“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” Garak began, his voice growing lower and more measured than it had been.  “If that were the case, I wouldn’t be bothering with you. My request is something a bit more, shall we say, personal.”With that, Dukat saw something undeniably carnal flash in Garak’s eyes -- a spark that seemed to escape from some strange and cavernous place inside Garak, opened for just a moment.  The game was something else, indeed, and something about that made Dukat feel more at ease.“Personal?” Dukat repeated, his lips twisting into a smirk.
Relationships: Dukat/Elim Garak
Series: Smashing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914883
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Disarm

**Author's Note:**

> The killer in me is the killer in you, my love.
> 
> -
> 
> All Cardassian biology ideas from tinsnip's "Speculative Cardassian Xenobiology" - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479/chapters/3663809

The information Garak presented to Dukat wasn’t as compromising as Dukat feared. It was nothing that would truly ruin Dukat if it got out. He would have to call in a few favors and make some well-placed bribes to weather the storm if it did, but he was prepared for that. He was always prepared for that.

Dukat laughed rather pointedly at Garak. “You asked me all the way out here for  _ this _ ? And what did you suppose you’d get in return? A return of your status?”

Garak smiled smugly, just enough to make Dukat’s blood start to boil at the sight of it. Why should Garak be smug about something like this? He had to know that this information was hardly a threat at all. Unless the game was something else, unless Dukat was falling into some other trap…

Garak stepped in closer, until Dukat had to resist the urge to step back. Garak’s eyes locked on his and they seemed to take on a different intensity.

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” Garak began, his voice growing lower and more measured than it had been. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t be bothering with you. My request is something a bit more, shall we say, personal.”

With that, Dukat saw something undeniably carnal flash in Garak’s eyes -- a spark that seemed to escape from some strange and cavernous place inside Garak, opened for just a moment. The game was something else, indeed, and something about that made Dukat feel more at ease.

“Personal?” Dukat repeated, his lips twisting into a smirk.

“Yes,” Garak said, the desire in his gaze becoming even more apparent. “It’s rather simple really. All you’ll need to do is be my pet for an evening. I’m sure you’re the kind of man who understands what I mean, aren’t you?”

“I do,” Dukat said, his voice undeniably intrigued. “But not from that side of things.”

“Oh, I know. But I promise you, I’m a very good master. Who knows? You might even find it enjoyable. Certainly better than all of those groveling calls you’d have to make otherwise.”

Dukat smiled, beaming the irresistible glow of being desired. “I suppose you think I don’t have much of a choice then, do I?”

“You do,” Garak said. “But I do hope you’ll choose me.”

\---

Dukat stood facing his own reflection in a full-length mirror in Garak’s quarters. He wore nothing, having been asked to strip upon his arrival, except for the various bits of leather that Garak had just rather carefully buckled onto him -- a wide collar connected to a simple harness about his chest, and all of that connected to sturdy cuffs that held his hands behind his back. The collar had a silver d-ring at the front of it, to which Garak now clipped a matching leather leash. 

Garak clucked happily as he glimpsed his handwork in the mirror, and Dukat could see Garak’s face overtaken by a grin that was as bright as it was smug. 

“Well, don’t you look pretty?” Garak cooed.

“Pretty?” Dukat echoed, the disdain in his voice feeling more forced than he’d anticipated. 

Garak chuckled. “What would you prefer I call you? Beautiful? Gorgeous? Magnificent? I know how effusive you love your praise. Either way, I must say I did a rather fine job making all of this, don’t you think?”

It was all rather well-crafted, Dukat had to admit. The design was elegant and tasteful -- simple but just a bit stylish, and well-suited to Dukat’s particular shape, as if it had been designed just for him -- and the leatherwork appeared flawless to him. The leather itself was up there with the finest Cardassian leather he had encountered -- certainly far finer than anything he’d ever put on a pet of his own. He became increasingly aware of the feeling of it against his skin -- softness and strength all at once, an exquisite texture. And the smell of it -- something about it threatened to enrapture him. He did always enjoy the smell of good leather, but tonight it was different, as if the smell itself was slowly unearthing some sort of long forgotten primal memory… He realized the length of his pause had become excessive and worked quickly to find a suitable barb to reply.

“Do you make all of your…” Dukat said, pausing as if preparing to spit the next word. “...pets praise your little sewing projects?”

“How disappointing, ” Garak sighed, twirling the end of the leash a bit in his hand. “You know nothing of how any of this is made, of the time and care that I put into this for you. No appreciation for the craft. But, I should have expected nothing less from you. Very well -- I certainly haven’t brought you here for an informed conversation. Kneel.”

Dukat felt his knees begin to move toward the ground almost before Garak’s command fully registered in his mind. A strange reaction, indeed. He held them back and moved more slowly, showing the reluctance that befitted a man of his stature and that Garak almost certainly expected of him. He would not want Garak to know that something was amiss. He had to lull Garak into revealing more of his weakness, so Dukat could thoroughly find his advantage. It was the reason he came here, after all. Such opportunities for such thorough revenge did not come often, and Dukat intended to enjoy it.

Dukat’s reverie was interrupted by the tug of the leash at his neck. “Come now, pet,” Garak commanded, tugging at the leash once more. “Follow me.”

Dukat began to stand, but almost as soon as he did, Garak tsked at him and tugged the leash down. “I didn’t tell you to stand,” Garak said. “I haven’t gone through all this trouble just to have you immediately disobey me.”

“Then how do you expect me to follow you?” Dukat said. “I imagine you’d like to see me crawl, but you should have thought of that before you bound my hands. So, what now? Do you intend to drag me?”

“You’re a smart man, aren’t you?” Garak said, giving the leash a particularly hard yank. “I know you’ll figure it out. So, come on now.”

Dukat was a smart man, of course. Whatever puzzle Garak thought he created, Dukat could solve. So, as awkward as it felt and as ridiculous as he knew he looked, he managed to walk on his knees and follow Garak’s pace to the sofa, which Dukat knelt in front of. 

“See, you can be a good boy when you want to be,” Garak said, giving Dukat a quick pet atop his head. “Now, stay for me.”

Dukat realized that as Garak petted him, he’d closed his eyes and softened into the pet. As soon as Dukat realized this, he snapped back into a hardened posture, as if standing at attention on his knees. Garak chuckled, presumably at something else, then sat down on the sofa, still holding the leash in one hand. Garak then picked up a PADD off the coffee table in front of him and began reading, presumably a book or something of the sort judging by his behavior, occasionally playing with the leash.

After a few minutes, Dukat began to find Garak’s reading infuriating. Had Garak really brought him here and forced him to look so ridiculous just to ignore him for something he could read at any other time? What was the point of any of this? Sure, the information Garak had wasn’t much, but it could have gotten him more than a reading companion. Shouldn’t he have wanted something more than that, from Dukat of all people? Unless there was some angle to this, some type of trap he hadn’t anticipated.

Dukat’s attempts to figure out the situation were met with increasing distraction. His senses seemed intent on flooding him with far more information than he required. He noticed every small sound of interest Garak made at his reading, his smallest fidget, every idle movement of the leash. He felt every tiny movement of air on his bare skin, every subtle change in temperature, the welcoming softness of the rug under his shins, the texture of the leather and metal against his skin -- this strange influx of sensation feeling somehow not enough. The beating of his heart grew loud and fast. His breathing sped up. He felt warmer. He licked his lips. He could smell himself now, mixed with the leather, taste it somehow, taste his arousal. He swallowed hard. He felt undeniably wet inside, undeniably sensitive, undeniably… needy. Why? Nothing had happened to warrant any of this. All he had done was sit here, looking like an absolute fool, at the feet of Garak, of all people, who was taking this opportunity to catch up on his reading for whatever reason. 

But Garak didn’t notice. Dukat was sure of that. Dukat would make sure of that. Garak couldn’t know about this. Dukat wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Whatever Garak had done to make this happen, Dukat would figure it out. He would make Garak regret it.

“Oh dear,” Garak said suddenly, startling Dukat just a bit. “I’ve forgotten my manners, haven’t I? I haven’t offered you anything to drink.”

With that, Garak bounced up, walked to a small cabinet near his dining table, and began to examine its contents, humming to himself. Garak made a noise of recognition, seeming to find what he was looking for, then held up two glasses and what Dukat recognized as a particularly expensive, rare bottle of kanar.

“I was saving this for a special occasion, but I suppose now will do,” Garak said. He studied Dukat for a moment, his eyes traveling slowly down Dukat’s body, calculating and lecherous all at once, and then the smile on his face grew larger. “Though perhaps a glass will prove difficult for you now, but I’m sure we’ll find another way, won’t we?”

Garak winked -- rather infuriatingly, Dukat thought -- and put one of the glasses back in the cabinet. He replaced it in his hand with a small, shallow bowl, then walked back toward Dukat and placed everything on the coffee table. The bowl matched the glass -- both were made of ornate but very tasteful crystal in a style that Dukat recognized as that of a particularly renowned Cardassian craftsman whose work was often hard to get a hold of. Garak opened the bottle of kanar and poured some into the glass, then the same amount into the bowl. Garak then placed the bowl on the floor in front of Dukat.

Dukat looked at Garak with all the disgust and indignation he could manage to hoist above everything else he felt at the moment. “You expect me to drink out of that?” he said.

“Of course I do,” Garak said, kneeling to meet Dukat at eye level. “Unless you’re worried you might break it. In that case, I could just pour this in your mouth. I might even have a funnel around here somewhere. But that’s a lot less enjoyable, isn’t it, my pet?” 

Garak punctuated his words with a few gentle pats atop Dukat’s head. In his attempt to resist softening into Garak’s touch again, Dukat growled, which made Garak laugh riotously.

“Oh no,” Garak said, still barely containing his laughter. “He’s a ferocious beast! Stay back everyone -- he might bite! Then maybe we’ll have to muzzle him.

Dukat rolled his eyes and huffed. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

Garak laughed again -- a soft, low chuckle. He sat on the floor next to Dukat, close enough that their bodies touched. Garak leaned his head onto Dukat’s shoulder and breathed him in deeply before slowly turning his head up to speak into Dukat’s ear. The ridges along Dukat’s shoulders had grown so sensitive now that the feeling of Garak’s breath alone was almost enough to make him shiver.

“I’m the one who’s having too much fun?” Garak said, trailing fingertips down Dukat’s chest, sliding over then underneath the straps of the harness as he passed them, then tracing his nails lightly around Dukat’s Chula. Dukat hissed his breath out and tried to tense his body to stop it from reacting so strongly to Garak’s touch, but it was no use -- his nerves continued to betray him, to Garak of all people, and they should not, they could not, they could not.

“What are you doing?” Dukat said, sounding far more panicked and far less commanding than he wanted to. His heartbeat grew louder in his ears.

“Exactly what we agreed, of course,” Garak said, his fingers sliding ever lower, beginning to touch Dukat’s Chuva now. “And you can stop me anytime. Just say the word, and you can leave, and I can get to sending those pesky files to everyone who might want to take a look at them. But I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”

There was no way Dukat could have formulated any sort of retort -- Garak’s touch felt too good, and he absolutely hated that it did, that Garak might know that it did, and the more he tried to resist, the better it felt. It took every bit of will he had to keep quiet and to keep his now very eager Cho’Ch from everting right into Garak’s hand. Once Garak’s fingers spread him open and found all the wetness inside him, his will broke with a long low moan as he everted, and the heat of humiliation and arousal made his head spin in the most strangely lovely sort of way.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Garak said, obviously pleased with himself. “But, I’d imagine you need that drink right now, don’t you?”

“Please,” was all Dukat could muster.

As Dukat started to lean forward toward the bowl, Garak moved over a bit to get out of the way and reached for his own glass. After a bit of wriggling and adjustment, Dukat eventually found a reasonable, though inefficient way to drink from the bowl. He knew he likely looked and sounded absolutely ridiculous, judging by how much Garak’s eyes shined with delight, especially when he refilled the bowl. Dukat knew he should stop drinking -- that he should try to keep his wits about him, or at least get them back. He needed to turn this back around. But, more and more, he craved that dark velvet softness -- the one he’d seen at the back of Garak’s eyes when he proposed this, that began to trickle through his nerves when Garak strapped the harness onto him, that Garak forced to grow in him, and that, with each sip of kanar, he came closer to drowning in completely. He could escape into that softness. He had to. It was irresistible. There was no other choice, was there? And if there was no other choice, what harm came from enjoying it?

“See, I knew you could be a good boy if you tried,” Garak said. “Maybe you’ve been good enough to come up onto the sofa with me.”

Garak helped Dukat lift himself back upright and licked the stray kanar from his face. The strangeness of it registered somewhere in Dukat’s mind, but none of it rattled him anymore. Taking hold of the leash, Garak guided Dukat to the sofa and sat down with him. Once they were settled there, Garak wrapped his arms tightly around Dukat and kissed him -- deep and a bit sloppy, tasting of kanar. Dukat kissed back, his mouth soft, his tongue loose. Garak groped roughly all over Dukat’s body as they kissed, and somehow, the fact that Dukat could not do the same in return intensified it. It was as if he was merely a vessel for sensation, and all of him that would otherwise have been filled with doing was filled with feeling instead.

After a while, Garak broke the kiss, and Dukat would have been disappointed, except Garak poured all the kanar that remained in the bottle into his glass and pressed it to Dukat’s lips, gently guiding him to drink the rest of it, which Dukat did readily. This glass was seemingly more delicious than the rest he’d had, and in this particular state of mind, the whole gesture felt rather luxurious.

Garak put the glass back onto the table and, rather deftly, reached behind Dukat and unhooked and rehooked the cuffs on his wrist so his hands were over his head rather than behind his back, then pushed Dukat down onto his back. Garak then stripped below the waist and Dukat’s eyes immediately fell to Garak’s Cho’ch -- out and slick and absolutely ready for him, needy for him. Dukat smiled broadly, unabashedly, too far gone into all of this to possibly conceal any of his delight in being so openly desired and his need to be filled with that desire.

Perhaps, Dukat thought, he really had won in all of this.

Garak was on top of Dukat now, slowly sliding inside him until their bodies were as close as they could possibly be. It was a fullness Dukat had never felt before -- so delicious he wondered why he had avoided it for so long, made even more exquisite when Garak began to writhe with him, bringing him the perfect sort of friction he so desperately needed. When Garak started to get close, he kissed Dukat hard, and the cry welling up in Dukat turned instead to sucking on Garak’s tongue, which devoured most of the sound he made as he came. Garak came soon after, a gasping, growling thing that left him panting.

“See,” Garak said, still catching his breath. “I knew you’d like this better than all those calls.”

\---

About two weeks later -- just long enough for his encounter with Garak to slip to the back of his mind -- Dukat received a highly secured, encrypted transmission from a sender he could not trace. It was a series of holophotos, and as he looked at them, a familiar flush came over him. They were of him, obviously taken during that night in Garak’s quarters. Garak was, of course, not at all identifiable in any of the photos but Dukat and the nature of the humiliation he’d endured -- as well as his obvious pleasure in it -- were. 

He should have known.

Just then, a second transmission followed, from Garak.

“Same terms as before,” it said. “You know where to find me. You have one week.”

Dukat smiled. It certainly wouldn’t take that long.

  
  
  



End file.
